afterlife - a poem

when we attempt to speak in dreams, it's obvious
how unnecessary language is, how its always
coming out garbled, confused, and upon waking
we find ourselves speaking in tongues
even we, the dreamers, no longer understand,

emotions, too, need not be so acute
in their wakeful rendering, rising abruptly as tears welling,
when in dreams, emotions are the air we breathe,
they are the colors of the atmosphere,
the lurching air we mistake for the skies,

that we could communicate
those intuitions to another, in wakened language,
would be then, a way to describe an afterlife